


Common Honesty

by lopezuna



Category: Lord Peter Wimsey - Dorothy L. Sayers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lopezuna/pseuds/lopezuna
Summary: Snippet from immediately after Busman’s Honeymoon.
Relationships: Harriet Vane/Peter Wimsey
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Common Honesty

The flat midday light of winter poured through the window. The fire had burned out in the grate, and Harriet was cold. Beside her, Peter was still sleeping deeply, so she eased her way carefully out of bed. She quickly pulled on her dressing-gown, and after some thought, added Peter's old woollen one on top. The old oak floor was chilly under her feet, but she waited until she was safely out on the stair to put on her slippers. Peter had finally fallen asleep some time after eight, and she hoped he would sleep a few hours more.

Downstairs, the kitchen was deserted, but it was warmer than it had been upstairs. A large pot of water bubbling on the stove indicated that Bunter was awake, and was up and about his business somewhere. Harriet checked the kettle for water, and put it on to boil. Her exalted mood of the early hours of the morning was gone, and she felt vaguely as if she had a hangover. However a cup of tea would be just what the doctor ordered. 

While waiting for the water, she stood looking out the window, staring out blankly at the pale grass and leafless trees, motionless under a damp gray sky. Her idle mind returned to the first morning she had woken up after being released from prison. It had been a winter day like this one, cold and damp, the kind of day when your breath hung in the air, and the cold entered your bones. Funny suddenly to remember something like that. Her memories of the period of her imprisonment and its aftermath had long been like a pencil drawing that somebody had tried to erase. If she had not known better, she would have said that they were the memories of a different woman, that had somehow lodged themselves in her brain. It was just as well, in a way. Dealing with the here and now had been a momentous enough task, without having to dwell on how narrowly she had escaped death. She wondered whether the period of the War was like that for Peter: a fog, with flashes of clarity that revealed themselves in dreams. 

Before they were engaged - until they were married, even - Harriet would have said that Peter was the strong one, his strength the reason she had resisted him so long. Now she could see she had been wrong. She was stronger than he was, and that was why he wanted her. Perhaps she should feel cheated. Peter had always claimed to want honesty, and she had always thought of him as honest. But one could only be honest with others if one was honest with oneself. So here she was, unexpectedly thrust into the role of rock of strength. But she was oddly unmoved by the realization of the shift in roles. She would have married him anyway, probably even years ago, if she had known that he was not as invulnerable as he affected to be.

The stamping of feet in the passageway and a breath of cold air announced Bunter's entrance. He was somewhat flustered by seeing Harriet in the kitchen.

"My lady! - I didn't realize you were awake."

"Oh, Bunter! Don't worry. I just came downstairs. Peter is still sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb him." She added, after a pause, "What is his usual reaction on these occasions?"

"Well, my lady, it is my experience that his lordship will recover his usual self after sleeping for some time - perhaps a full twenty-four hours."

"Ah," replied Harriet. "Thank you, Bunter. In that case, I will try to disturb him as little as possible."

At that moment the kettle started to sing.

"If your ladyship can wait some minutes, I will prepare breakfast."

"That would be wonderful, Bunter." She became aware that the kitchen was his domain, and felt suddenly that her presence there was an invasion of his privacy. "I have some work to do while I am waiting."


End file.
